


Love Like You

by thebooklord15



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Dark Humor, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gay, Jonathan Crane and Scarecrow are Different People, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Scriddler, because im a dork, but chaotic, first shot at scriddler, scarecrow is a protective parent, southern accent alert, yes this title is a song reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24755263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebooklord15/pseuds/thebooklord15
Summary: Jonathan was quite adamant about keeping his lover, Edward, and his alternate personality, Scarecrow, separate.Through accidental circumstance his wishes are denied.
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma, Scarecrow/Riddler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 73





	Love Like You

_If I could begin to do_

_Something that does right by you,_

_I would do about, anything._

_I would even learn how to love._

_\- Rebecca Sugar, 'Love Like You'._

Scarecrow was peeking through Jonathan's eyes. He could feel it.

_"Oooh I bet this one's gonna be a screamer! Can't I take the wheel, just for a little bit?"_

"Not yet. Let me administer the formula. Then it will be your turn." To anyone else in the room it would appear that Jonathan was talking to himself.

To his latest test subject, a car salesman in his late sixties, it solidified his belief that he was being held hostage by a madman who was probably going to kill him. _(Though in this particular case, Jonathan supposed, it would be_ two _madmen.)_

The subject wriggled in his confines. "Please! You don't have to do this!" he cried. The swinging light above him briefly illuminated the sweat running down the man's face. Alongside it was a steady stream of tears. "I'll give you whatever you want! Money, the house- Christ, take my _wife_ if you want her! Just _please_ don't kill me!" The man sobbed. Not even dosed, yet already terrified. 

_"Delicious,"_ Scarecrow purred. Jonathan agreed.

Next to Jonathan was a medical cart dappled in odd russet stains. On it lay a disorganized assortment of syringes, gauze, duct tape, a piece of manila rope, and several vials filled with strangely colored liquids. Jonathan selected a particularly large syringe and filled it with one of the vial's contents. The formula was a beautiful shade of gamboge.

_"You did real good with that one, Johnny. Remember what happened to the mice we tested with it?"_

"I do. It's rather fascinating, how quick they were to bite their own tails off, don't you think?"

_"Mmmhmm. It'll take weeks to get the blood outta those cages!"_

At the sight of this display, the subject bucked even harder in his leather restraints. It was amusing to watch. He was bound by the ankles, knees, wrists, elbows, and forehead. How exactly was he planning to break free?

"I wonder if the reaction will be the same with this one? Perhaps he'll swallow his tongue or scratch the skin off his palms." Jonathan gave the needle an experimental push. Fear toxin squirted out the tip. Some of the droplets scattered onto his burlap covered arm. Besides his mask he was fully costumed.

_"Do it, do it, do it!"_ Scarecrow was becoming restless.

Jonathan turned to face his patient. He couldn't help but grin. Scarecrow wasn't the only one excited for this experiment.

The subject's eye's bugged. " _No_! God please, no _anything you want_ -!"

Jonathan brought a bony finger to his lips. Immediately the man quieted, only allowing a small whimper to escape him. Scarecrow cackled from within Jonathan's mind.

"Hush, my dear patient. This will only sting for a moment.." He caressed the man's radial artery in a manner that was almost intimate. Goosebumps broke out under his touch. Jonathan continued this pattern for an odd thirty seconds, just to unnerve his patient further. Like a cobra he struck, quick and without warning. The man yelped as nearly twenty milliliters of toxin surged into his body.

Jonathan took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Scarecrow exhaled and opened them. He reached onto the second shelf of the medical cart. A burlap mask, fitted with two holes for eyes, and a stitched crooked smile, awaited him. He traded Jonathan's glasses for it. Then he took the manila rope and tied it into a clumsy noose that swung from his neck.

Jonathan was watching this all from within his own body, much like a common person spectates the lives of celebrities and housewives from New Jersey on their television.

Scarecrow pulled the recorder from the pocket of their costume's pants. Pushed the button. His voice, a more husky accented version of Jonathan's own, spoke into it.

"Formula number forty-seven, patient one. _Playtime_."

That was the last thing the subject was able to comprehend. Then, as the poison coursed through him, and the world distorted, he saw the monster towering over him.

Scarecrow's laughter drowned out his agonized screams.

\---

The dosage had been more lethal than intended. Jonathan wasn't very happy with this, so Scarecrow wasn't either. Jonathan had even tried to take back control of the body, intending to spend the rest of the night perfecting the formula. Scarecrow wasn't having any of it. It was already well past midnight, Scarecrow had reasoned, and he would have plenty of time for it tomorrow. It was a long battle, but Scarecrow won in the end.

"Let me take care of this failure's body, honeychild. You get yer rest." Scarecrow cooed. It hurt his shriveled little heart to hear his boy so upset. All the more reason for Scarecrow to be in charge. His boy had enough to worry about as it was. No reason for him to fool with this cleaning up business when Scarecrow could handle it for him.

_"Fine! If you're so eager to deal with this mess, be my guest!"_ With a huff he muttered, _"I just wish I could understand what went wrong. God, I'm such an_ idiot _."_

Hearing Jonathan beat himself up sickened him. It reminded him of the old bitch they used to live with. He could still see her beating his Johnny with her cane like it was yesterday. 

"Pray boy!" she would cry, "Pray for your sins!"

Scarecrow wished he could cut her withered old throat a second time.

"Yer the farthest thing from it, darlin'. Now, go on to bed. I'll take care o' ya."

_"..Promise?"_ was his tentative response.

"Always. G'night honeychild."

With that, his stubborn boy finally gave in to sleep. Scarecrow was in full control now. He cracked his knuckles, preparing to go to work. As he extended his arms something caught his eye. His nails were painted black.

He cocked his head to the left, then right. When had this happened? He'd been checking up on Johnny almost every minute of the day except for-

_Oh_. So that Edward boy had done this, then?

"Hmmph." Scarecrow still wasn't sure how to feel about the relationship between those two. From what he could tell, it was making Jonathan happy, and while that was always a good thing, he still couldn't tell if it was a trustworthy thing. You see, that boy back in Arlen had made him happy too. At first.

Bouquets of flowers, shy kisses stolen between the aisles of the library, and sweet nothings whispered under the cover of darkness. Jonathan had fallen hard for that boy.

Then he'd cheated on him with that hussy of a librarian. When he'd found the two, lips locked in the Sci-Fi section, Jonathan had run behind the building and cried so much that he puked. The vomit had ruined his favorite pair of moccasins.

To say Scarecrow had been furious would be a gross understatement. The only reason that punk was still alive was because Johnny had begged him not to kill him.

Somehow Jonathan, sweet child of his, had still loved him. Against his better judgement Scarecrow had obliged. This isn't to say that he hadn't gotten his just desserts though. Last Scarecrow had heard that boy was still attending AA meetings. Poor thing had turned to the bottle after losing both his parents to a car crash. What a _shame_ it was that their breaks had suddenly stopped working.

...

..Perhaps that was why his boy was so reluctant for Scarecrow to meet his new beloved. So far Scarecrow had been patient, waiting for Jonathan to inform him about when he'd be able to meet Edward, or at the very least catch a glimpse of him. When nearly a month had passed without so much as a word, he'd decided to ask.

_ “Darlin’, when am I gonna get ta meet this Edward boy of yers? Ya can’t be plannin’ ta keep us separated forever.” _

_ Jonathan huffed and continued to scribble equations in his notebook. Even if Scarecrow could read the chicken-scratch handwriting he wouldn’t have been able to understand it. Chemistry had never been a strong suit of his. _

_ “Not  _ forever _ no, but not yet. It hasn’t even been a month since we’ve started seeing each other. Much too soon.” _

_ “Well can I at least see what he-” _

_ Jonathan slammed his notebook shut and threw it down onto the floor. _

_ “I said  _ no _!” _

After that little outburst he had backed off. Somewhat. It had been another month and he had yet to ask him. 

Scarecrow was still worried for his boy. It was his job to protect him after all.

He had just begun to scrub the blood off of the floor when the sound of an opening door upstairs reached his ears. Scarecrow cocked his head to the side and listened. The sound of it’s closing followed. His hand drifted to the needles on the medical tray. He grabbed five of them, inserting them between his fingers. Scarecrow preferred the scythe when fending off intruders but that was in the upstairs lab. He’d been nagging at Jonathan to get a back-up for situations like this, but once again his boy’s stubbornness had reared its head.

“Don’tchu worry honeychild. Scarecrow will take care of this fer ya. Jus’ like I promised.” He whispered. He’d like to think that Jonathan could hear him despite his unconscious state.

Scarecrow crept up the old wooden staircase, being sure to avoid the spots that creaked.

Without realizing he began to hum as he climbed:

“ _ Goosey, goosey gander _ ,” he scraped the needles along the oak railing. They left tallied white streaks in their wake. 

“ _ Whither shall I wander? Upstairs n’ downstairs, and in my lady’s chamber. _ ” Scarecrow had reached the top of the staircase. He peered around the dark living room. Spilled drink on the carpet, research notes scattered on the coffee table, towering shelves overflowing with well-worn books..everything seemed to be in order here.

“ _ There I met an old man who wouldn’t say his prayers _ ,” he stole into the living room to peer into the kitchen. Beyond the granite kitchen island a man clad in a gray suit spattered with green question-marks was leaning into the fridge.

He smirked and finished the song.

“ _ So I took him by his left leg,  _ and threw him down the stairs!” He pounced on the intruder. Scarecrow grabbed him with the unarmed hand and whirled him around to face him. The man in the suit cried out in surprise. The various pieces of fruit, vegetables, and meats he had been holding were scattered about.

The man was knocked onto his ass. He glared indignantly up at him.

“ _ Christ _ Jonathan, it’s just me! What’s gotten into you?!” 

Scarecrow had been poised to strike, but hesitated when he was called Jonathan. “Ya know my boy?”

A look of realization settled on the man’s face. His eyes widened. “I’m not talking to Jonathan am I?” he asked, tone wavering. “You’re Scarecrow.”

Scarecrow hadn’t yet lowered his makeshift weapon. “And you?”

“The Riddler to most of Gotham, but Jon knows me as Edward Nygma.”

Ah! So  _ this  _ was Edward.

_ Good thing I didn’t actually chuck him down the stairs. Johnny would’ve had a fit! _

He took a moment to look at the boy. Most of his outfit seemed to be centered around the color green: dark green bowler hat, green tie, and of course the green question marks on his jacket. The combination brought out his eyes quite nicely. 

His hair, neatly gelled before his tumble, was a dark auburn color. Edward patted it down with purple gloved hands in an attempt to fix it. It didn’t do him much good. The gelled locks stuck to his gloves-they were probably felt.

Though he was trying to be confident, it was quite obvious that Scarecrow’s scrutinizing gaze was unnerving him (Though the weapon being pointed at him certainly wasn’t helping calm him down). He was biting his lips and fiddling with his suit jacket.

It was..adorable actually.

Slowly Scarecrow lowered the needles. 

Edward visibly relaxed. _ Pity. _

“You know, Scarecrow, I knew that our meeting was inevitable but I can’t say that I pictured it to go quite like this.” He said, picking himself up from the floor. Edward made a show of dusting off the seat of his pants, and once again failing to tidy up his hair.

“Didja now?” Interesting. Maybe he hadn’t been the only one pestering Jon about their lack of interaction.

Edward had picked up some of the dropped foodstuffs and was packing them away in the fridge. Now that Scarecrow wasn’t focused on murdering the would-be intruder, he noticed that there were nearly a dozen grocery bags on the counters. Had he been the one stocking the fridge?

“Of course. I’ve heard enough about you that I assumed Jon would be planning some sort of arrangement. A family dinner or something of that ilk.”

“Johnny’s told ya ‘bout me?” Also interesting. He’d heard nothing about Edward.

“Relatively good things, I promise.” He was sorting the items into their own categories. “Mostly just an explanation that he and you are different individuals and how to distinguish the difference between you two.” Fish, steaks, and porkchops lined the top shelf while the lettuce spinach and some other leafy greens occupied the one below that. Once barren space was filled with the vibrant hues of healthy food. 

“By the by,” Edward said as he sorted the strawberries and blueberries onto the third shelf, “do you know if Jonathan has eaten today? I know how neglectful he can be of that.” 

He hadn’t. That was an argument Scarecrow had lost. 

“He ain’t. Why?” 

“Hmph! Typical. Have a seat and I’ll make you something.” He waved his hand at the island behind him. 

Scarecrow slowly blinked at the other. “Ya do that fer ‘im often? Cookin’, I mean.”

Edward had taken out the pork chops from the fridge and was faced away from him rummaging through the top cabinets. “More often than not. If I didn’t he’d either starve to death or eat nothing but bread and crackers, insisting that he’ll eat  _ eventually _ he’s  _ just busy right now _ .” Edward said with a scoff. “Jonathan Crane is nothing if not stubborn, as I’m sure you know.”

Scarecrow smirked. “All too well.” He complied with the other’s wish, hopping onto one of the three bar stools on the other side of the island. He chose the one in the middle, a faded rust color and nearly flat from lack of stuffing. The other two weren’t any better. In fact compared to the mystery stain on the stool to his left and the giant tear on his right, the flat one may have been the best option. 

Edward found what he was looking for: a grimy skillet. He frowned at it’s dirty state. “Does he  _ never _ clean anything around here?” He muttered, probably just to himself. He ducked out of Scarecrow's sight and returned with a bottle of  _ Dawn _ and an off-white dishcloth. After a couple tries at the handle, the faucet spurted out a stream of water. Edward rolled up his suit sleeves and, presumably, got to scrubbing. He couldn’t see anything but the jerk of the boy’s elbows as he had his back to him. 

_ I come at him like a damn animal, yet he trusts me enough ta have his back ta me? That doesn’t make much sense. Then again, it might not be  _ me _ he’s puttin’ faith in.. _

__ He felt a prickle of guilt in regard to his sleeping boy. He’d be cross with Scarecrow for defying his wishes to keep them apart. 

Then again, what would he have him do? Wake him up, have him be grumpy, maybe take out his frustration on Edward and possibly have them fight over it? No. Jonathan should remain asleep. He needed the rest.

Besides, the boy was right. Jonathan would never eat unless someone nagged him about it. Scarecrow told himself that he remained in control for Jonathan’s benefit rather than to sate his own curiosity.

It was almost believable.

Edward held up the skillet for examination. It was so shiny that the light above was reflecting off of it. He sighed. “Not as clean as it could be, but it will have to do.”

Scarecrow, who literally had to squint to look at it, had to disagree.“Whatchu mean? Before it looked like ya dragged it out the swamp. Now the light comin’ off it’s fixin’ ta blind me.”

Edward looked over his shoulder and raised one shapely eyebrow at him. “Is that flattery I detect?” 

He cocked his head to the side. “Jus’ sayin’ what I see.” Was he really that self centered?

“Mmhmm.” Edward sounded disbelieving. So he  _ was _ that self centered. “Well, intentional or not, it is appreciated.” 

What the hell was he supposed to say to that? ‘Your welcome’? 

Scarecrow opted for silence.

Edward didn’t seem to mind. Instead he went through one of the grocery bags littered on the counter. He pulled out a sack of flour, salt, black pepper and some vegetable oil. Then he rifled through the cabinets once more until he found a suitable dish. He scoffed when he realized he’d have to clean that too.

“I realize that the two of you must be busy with experiments and what have you, but is it  _ really _ so difficult to clean up after yourselves? No matter how many times I try to tidy up around here it always seems we’re back to square one.” 

Scarecrow shrugged. “Johnny doesn’t really mind, so I don’t either.” He didn’t really get what the boy’s problem was. They barely even used the plates or cooking utensils anyway. And it wasn’t like  _ everything _ in the house was dirty. Just the stuff that didn’t get used as much. 

Edward, who was vigorously scrubbing the dish, scoffed. “Tch! “Doesn’t really mind,'' he says. How typical. You’ll start to when you’re plagued with rats and the other variations of vermin that infest Gotham.”

“How’d ya think we get the mice we test on?” Scarecrow said, monotone. 

Edward made a gagging noise. “That is absolutely  _ repulsive _ ! How can you live in a state of such-such  _ utter  _ filth?!”

“Why does that even bother ya so much? S’not like ya live here or nothin’.” Scarecrow realized how direct that question sounded after he’d uttered it. Maybe he really  _ did _ have straw for brains.

Edward hadn’t seemed to notice the attempt at interrogation. “It bothers me because it’s  _ unsanitary _ . You can catch illnesses from this sort of state you know! Tuberculosis, malaria, intestinal diseases-the list goes on. No boyfriend of mine should live in a state of such  _ squalor  _ voluntarily or otherwise!” He had finished cleaning the dish and set it beside the blinding skillet. 

Edward spun around to face Scarecrow. “On the topic of hygiene, have some of this.” From inside of his suit Edward pulled out a small bottle of  _ Germ-X _ . “I can tell by the costume you’ve been in the lab today and I would be absolutely mortified if you got hepatitis from the blood of your experiments.” 

Scarecrow furrowed his brows. Once again, he had no idea what this boy was talking about. There wasn’t _ any _ blood on his hands. Even so, he did as requested. 

_ Well, he cares about Jonathan’s health an awful lot, that’s for sure.  _ He thought, handing back the bottle. It was pocketed away once more.

“Now that everything and every _ one _ ,” Edward poked Scarecrow’s masked nose, and received an inquisitive look in return, “is clean it’s time I gave you the best home cooked meal you’ve ever had!”

He scratched at his cheek. The burlap was starting to itch.“Quite a high standard yer settin’ for yerself.” 

Edward gave a haughty scoff. “Please. By my standards I was being abnormally humble.”

Scarecrow couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. He decided it was safe to assume he wasn’t.

So he shrugged and said, “If ya say so.” If Edward was a fraction as good as he was advertising it would probably still be the best meal Scarecrow ever had. He himself rarely ate. His main purposes usually involved assisting in Jon’s experimentation or just comforting his boy in general.

Now that he really thought about it, he couldn’t even  _ remember _ eating a proper meal.

“Oh I _know_ so!” Was Edward’s smug response. _ Good lord, this child is full of himself. _

Scarecrow made an attempt to follow along with Edward’s cooking process and his overly detailed explanation of every step. It was made in vain. 

Somewhere between two teaspoons of vegetable oil and however many cups of flour he simply checked out of the conversation. 

So when he tuned back into reality and found a plate full of sizzling pork chops in front of him he was pleasantly surprised.

Edward had the giddiest smile on his face as he placed a fork and elegantly folded napkin beside it. “ _Bon appétit mon sinistre_ _monsieur_.”

Scarecrow cut himself a piece of the food and started to bring it to his lips before he remembered the mask. He set it back down and attempted to pull the burlap from his face. It didn’t move. Frowning he gave a harsher tug. He was met with resistance. He growled and pulled even harder. Nothing. 

Edward watched from across the island with amusement. His head was resting in his gloved hands, elbows on the granite. He pointed a dainty index at the other man’s neck. “You might want to untie the rope first, dear.”

Scarecrow stopped his struggling. He groped at his neck, feeling the forgotten noose that prevented his freedom. “Oh. Forgot ‘bout that.”

He picked at the knot. Glared at it through the eye-holes of his mask when it did not come undone. After tugging it, the rope tightened around his neck. He growled in frustration and continued to pull.

Edward had the nerve to chuckle at his suffering. He turned his angered gaze to the boy. “Somethin’ funny boy?”

“Oh nothing. Just wondering if you would like some assistance, was all.” Mischief twinkled in his green eyes. 

Scarecrow scowled, though the other couldn’t see it. “I can untie a rope by my damn  _ self _ thank ya very much.” 

Edward held his hands up in mock surrender. “If you insist. Though at the rate you’re going, the food will have gone cold by the time you’ve defeated that knot.” 

Scarecrow stared at the plate in front of him with despair. Steam had already ceased to emit from the pork chops. The boy was, unfortunately, right. And as much as he would’ve liked to refuse help from another living being, he liked the idea of keeping the shared body fed even more.If it didn’t happen now God only knew the next time his boy would remember to feed himself.

He still didn’t have to  _ like  _ it though.

“Fine! Untie the damn thing yourself since ya want ta so bad.” Scarecrow spat, violently throwing the noose from his hands. It thunked back against his chest. He huffed at the rope’s disrespect. 

With a smirk too triumphant for Scarecrow’s liking Edward complied with his request. There was a certain degree of theatricality in the way he leaned over the island and undid the noose. A little twist of his gloved fingers and an unnecessary flick of the wrist freed his partner from his confines. “ _ Voila _ ! A free man once again.”

Scarecrow scoffed, and yanked off his mask. “Woop-de-fucking do-dah. Least I can eat now.” 

Edward merely chuckled at the brash words. “Enjoy.” 

To his surprise Edward righted himself and headed for the staircase. 

Frowning at the sudden change in behavior he called after him. “Where ya goin’ boy? Ain’t gonna stick around ta see if I like it?”

Not bothering to look back Edward waved a dismissive hand at him. “I’m going to take care of whatever mess you two have undoubtedly left down there. You can just worry about making sure Jon is fed and put to bed properly.” He’d reached the mouth of the staircase but paused to turn to him once more. There was another one of those smug looks on his face. Shapely eyebrows slightly raised and a delighted smile that revealed no teeth. Scarecrow understood why Jonathan was attracted to him.

“As for my culinary prowess, I have no reason to believe that you will be dissatisfied. The first time I cooked for Jon we nearly tore my mattress in half.” Not bothering to stick around for the look of pure shock and fluster that smacked onto Scarecrow’s face Edward turned and descended into the basement. 

After his initial embarrassment at the exiting comment ceased, Scarecrow could no longer resist the plate of food in front of him. He took his forgotten piece and bit in. 

His eyes widened as his taste buds exploded with flavor, having grown used to the variety of bland foods subjected upon them. As he wolfed down the rest of his meal Scarecrow was able to admit for the third time Edward was right.

He was a fucking  _ fantastic _ cook.

\---

Jonathan woke up with an odd feeling in his gut. That is to say, he woke up and found it odd that he felt  _ anything _ in his gut. Scarecrow must have fed him last night. How considerate of him.

A yawn bubbled up his throat. He stretched his arms into the air. He did somewhat of a double take when he saw what he was wearing. 

Gray silk hung off of his thin arms, and after he kicked off his duvet he saw that the same material encased his (equally thin) legs. 

Okay, now this was  _ definitely _ not Scarecrow.

Jonathan had lost count of the amount of times the other had let him sleep with their costume on-sometimes even neglecting to remove the mask, much to his displeasure. Burlap just got too itchy after a while.

“What the fuck..” He grumbled. It was too early to be solving mysteries this complex. Or at least he assumed it was early. He was exhausted enough to feel it was a safe assumption. There was no window in his room so he couldn’t exactly check.

“I assume by that tone that it is Jonathan with which I speak?” Jonathan was unsurprised to hear his lover, Edward, say. He was prone to inviting himself over these days and the initial shock of finding his home broken into had worn off. 

He scrubbed the heel of his hand against his eye, the other fumbling for his glasses at his nightstand. Once they were located he secured them on his face. He managed to pull himself into a sitting position and turn towards the sound. 

Edward was propped up by an ungodly amount of pillows on the other side of the bed, regarding him bemusedly. There was a book clasped in his manicured hands-  _ Atlas Shrugged _ the title read- with a bookmark resting between the pages. 

After a moment bemusement morphed into a sort of _ ‘Well, I’m waiting’  _ look.

Jonathan furrowed his brow, wondering what was expected of him.

His sleep muddled mind remembered that Edward had spoken a moment ago and he was probably waiting for a reply.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” He punctuated his question with another yawn.

Edward rolled his eyes, clapping the book shut. “Okay, now I know it’s Jonathan. Scarecrow would’ve at least given me a ‘hmm’ or some other primitive grunt.”

Jonathan slowly blinked at his partner. “I must be dreaming still, because you’re talking about him like you’ve met.”

Edward nonchalantly leaned over Jonathan to set his novel on the nightstand. “He had the pleasure of introducing himself to me around-” 

“He  _ what _ ?!” Jonathan exploded, suddenly very awake. 

Edward, still infuriatingly calm about this situation, scoffed. “Now, now there’s no need to take that sort of tone to me!”

“How can I be the only one concerned here?! I wasn’t present to intervene at all- he could have  _ killed  _ you and I would have been powerless to stop it! He didn’t try anything like that did he? If he laid a hand on a single inch of you so help me  _ God _ he is a dead man-!” 

“If you would stop interrupting me and listen I would tell you what happened!” Edward snapped. Gone was the previous nonchalance, present was the irritated glare. He huffed childishly, crossing his arms. Jonathan saw that he was wearing pajamas similar to his own, Edward’s being a more obnoxious shade of green dotted with purple question marks. His gut clenched. Edward had slept next to Scarecrow? 

_ What happened to being the smartest man in Gotham?! _

“Are you ready to engage in this discussion properly now, dear?” Edward said mockingly sweet. Jonathan hated when he did that. It made him feel like a scolded child. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reminding himself that unless he wanted to start this morning off with a fight he would have to be the mature one.

“I’m listening.”

Placated, Edward uncrossed his arms. “As I was about to inform you before I was so  _ rudely _ interrupted,” Jonathan had to take another deep breath, “he had the pleasure of introducing himself to me sometime around midnight, when I decided to stop by with some groceries-”

“You went grocery shopping after midnight?” Jonathan asked, raising a brow.

“What did I just say about being interrupted? Moving on,” Jonathan made a mental note to ask again later, “I was replenishing your food supply, being the dutiful lover I am, when Scarecrow gave me a fright from behind.” 

Immediately concerned Jonathan opened his mouth to interject again.

“Neither party was harmed, I assure you!” Edward said, beating him to the punch. “Once he was made aware of my identity he was quick to disarm himself.”

“He came at you with a weapon?!” Scarecrow may as well be six feet under already.

“An attempt at one. There were syringes between his fingers.” Edward wryly explained.

Jonathan clenched his hands into fists. 

_ Oh that strawy sonofabitch is gonna wish all I did was kill him! _

Edward took Jonathan’s hands into his own. His were much softer and pretty, as he went through many bottles of moisturizers and creams to keep them that way. He rubbed soothing circles into the calloused palms of his partner, uncurling the fists.

“Although I find the amount of concern for my well-being to be endearing, I must also point out its superfluous. I’m quite capable of defending myself in combat.” 

“You shouldn’t  _ have _ to think about these things when entering the home of your lover!” Jonathan replied, yanking his hands back. 

“Jonathan, I do a great number of things that I ‘shouldn’t have to do’,” he did air quotes with his fingers, “as it is. Adding another to that list is no skin off my nose.” 

“But Edward-,” Jonathan cut himself off, not knowing what he’d intended to say. An apology? Beg him not to leave him, even though he’d be better off that way? Both options felt bitter on his tongue.

“Don’t start you with the ‘you deserve better than me’ speech now! It is far too early for squabbling.” Edward chided, as if he’d read his mind.

Jonathan sighed. How he’d ended up with such an intelligent, childish, egomaniac of a partner he would never know. 

“Edward..” He didn’t bother trying to finish.

“You can say my name all you like after I’ve finished my explanation!” Edward said, tapping him on the nose. Jonathan was tempted to smile at the gesture. Another odd form of endearment from his partner. He still wasn’t quite sure why Edward decided to casually poke him in the nose like that, but he couldn’t complain. It was adorable, really.  _ (Not that you’d ever catch him voicing that thought, he’d never hear the end of it.) _

“Now, where was I? Ah, yes he had just relinquished his arms! After a queer introduction we were able to converse rather well. I made him the best dinner he’d ever had, cleaned up the laboratory (you’re welcome by the way) and we both retired for the night.” Edward said. He gave his partner a satisfied smirk, the type that nearly always lead to a kiss. Edward was, of course, aware of Jonathan’s weakness and was not above exploiting it as much as he possibly could.

Unfortunately for the prince of puzzles his frightening counterpart was focused on another matter.

“That..That’s it? That’s all that transpired between the two of you?” 

The smug look disappeared, replaced by an annoyed frown. “No Jon,” Edward huffed and crossed his arms, “I absconded into bed with your alter and let him ravish me a hundred times over. What were you expecting me to say?”

“I don’t know, that he threatened to violently murder you if you ever hurt me, or to torture you with your greatest nightmares for the rest of eternity? That’s usually how these things go.” Jonathan ran a hand through his hair. It was still tousled from slumber.

Edward lost the annoyed look, replacing it with a more understanding one. “That’s why you’ve been keeping us seperate isn’t it? Because you were worried that I would be hurt.”

Jonathan stopped fussing with his hair. “Well, of course I was worried. Last time things didn’t work out, the poor bastard almost got wiped off the map. Couldn’t really stop Scarecrow from cutting the brakes in his parents car, but that’s besides the point.” 

“Sounds like it was a rather nasty break-up.” Edward observed. He took one of Jonathan’s hands into his own, playing with the spindly fingers. 

He nodded. “It was. He cheated on me with the librarian.” 

“Mmm. Perhaps you  _ should _ have let Scarecrow kill him then. Cheating is an act of pure selfishness.”

Jonathan chuckled. “Perhaps.” He squeezed his partners hands, causing them to halt their actions. “So you're really okay? The both of you just..got along?”

“Very much so. I daresay we might become friends one of these days.” 

“Oh really?”

“Yes  _ really _ . Go ahead and ask him if you like. He was quite taken with me.” Edward gave him another smirk. “Then again, who isn’t? I’m a delight to be around!”

This time Jonathan did not resist. He leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss onto Edwards lips. It was returned with equal gusto.

Scarecrow peeked through Jonathan’s eyes once more. Jonathan, although satisfied that everything had worked out, still intended to have a stern lecture with him about going behind his back.

_ “Everything alright here?”  _ Scarecrow asked, hesitant. 

“Yes Scarecrow, we’re fine.” Jonathan replied aloud. Edward gave him a knowing look. 

“I’ll prepare breakfast while you two hash it out.”

“I already had dinner. I don’t need breakfast.” Jonathan protested.

“Of course you do! Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Boosts your metabolism, gives you energy, helps you focus- nothing but beneficial.” Edward waved him off, climbing out of bed. 

Before Jonathan could argue further his lover was out the door and on his way into the kitchen.

Scarecrow chuckled. _ “The boy’s right y’know. I wager we’re gonna get along jus’ fine.” _

Jonathan sighed and rubbed his temple. “I know. That’s what really scares me.”

__ **_-Fin-_ **

  
  
  



End file.
